


eggs and bacon

by ishka



Category: Free!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6387706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishka/pseuds/ishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These days, Sousuke revels in the exceptional, exciting moments where Kisumi doesn’t attempt to kick him out of the bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eggs and bacon

**Author's Note:**

> i found this half-done and had totally forgotten about it last week and decided to finish it. i think it was for SK week originally but who knows?? tbh it doesn't matter i'll clearly never be out of this kisumi hell with no beginning or end. anyway it's just some tropey fluff to make up for the terror i wrote them in last... or is it?

For longer than it should’ve been, it was _exciting_. 

It started with daring laughter, loud and beckoning. Growing up, Kisumi always laughed light and unfettered, so puffy and airy the lilt could fill a room without much effort on his part. But only with Sousuke, his laughs boomed and rumbled up Sousuke’s arms until the ripples met in the middle of his chest and _crashed,_ then slipped like a fault line on his sternum before trembling out and down the rest of him in shockwaves. Sousuke noticed the difference. Felt it, more accurately, when his knees would threaten to cripple under the energy of it. He wanted to know why, so he followed him.

Forever, for _ages_ , Sousuke followed. Lost him around corners, and could only pin him for a few moments if he could catch him at all before he laughed, knocked Sousuke off balance with the quake, and slipped away again. Sousuke never wondered why he chased; the rush it gave him was the only reason he needed, and sooner into the dance than he likes to admit, he learned Kisumi loved to string him along like that. 

He’d like to say all that childish curiosity and tag playing ended once Kisumi let Sousuke catch him and hold on, but who would he be fooling?

Considering his mid-morning thoughts on the matter, it at least makes him grin that Kisumi’s the one wrapped around him, muttering groggy protestations long after Sousuke settled back down into bed after trying to leave. This, he’d like to say, is par for the course. But after this long, it’s a once in awhile affair. No- what’s more common is Kisumi drilling a knee into his back until he rolls out of his space, which depending on the day of the week is merely his side of the bed or the _entire_ bed, and at least once a month Sousuke is kneed straight onto the floor. 

Sometimes this is all there is to the excitement. A far cry from the chase, a different life from the 2 AM fuck followed by the 3 AM cigarette on the patio with a spectacular view of a wall. Back when Sousuke could only catch him for so long. Oddly, it never felt impermanent. Maybe is was a chase, but Kisumi always coming back to rest was one of the few things in Sousuke’s life he could count on. He didn’t mind waiting for it. He wasn’t any readier than Kisumi was to settle down for a long time either.

Once, Kisumi pointed out the crack running along the upper right of the wall looked like a giraffe, and Sousuke remembers that as the first time Kisumi didn’t immediately leave again. He stayed long enough to finish the entire cigarette long after Sousuke put his out half-way and reveal his knack for pareidolia.

But these days, Sousuke revels in the exceptional, exciting moments where Kisumi doesn’t attempt to kick him out of the bed.

“Make me breakfast,” Sousuke thinks he hears Kisumi muffle into his side. 

“It’s nearly lunch. I’ll make you lunch.”

“But I want fried eggs. And bacon.”

“Then make it yourself.”

Kisumi sighs and rolls away from Sousuke to stretch. Summers are great for Kisumi not wearing much to bed (or in general), and Sousuke takes the opportunity to watch him arch his back off the mattress in nothing but his boxers. His spine is a perfect bow he can imagine grazing his lips along top to bottom. Kisumi’s shudder and purr when he does that could rumble the most stubborn mountain.

“Take a picture,” he yawns, catching Sousuke’s leer from the corner of his eye. “It’ll last longer.”

“Would you let me?” Sousuke laughs. 

“Do you even have enough space on your phone for one that you _don’t_ think you snuck?”

Sousuke snorts. “Don’t think so highly of yourself. Your contact photo is still the default silhouette.”

“And _yours_ ,” Kisumi drawls, “is your ass. In those black jeans.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Sousuke thinks this is a whole lot of sass for a day that started off cute, and rolls to sit over the top of Kisumi, settling snugly on his lap. “We are _all_ aware of that photo.”

“So I want your ass next to my face when I talk to you on the phone,” he laughs. “It’s not illegal.”

Sousuke hums unimpressed, mostly distracted with pulling his thumbs along Kisumi’s collarbones and throat. If any part of the body should be illegal, it’s _that_ part on _him_. He cocks his head with a tug of an idea and stretches to reach for his phone in the drawer, which displaces his weight.

“ _Oof_. Get _off_ y’brute.”

“I wanna,” Sousuke pouts, rolling his hips as he returns to center with his phone. 

Kisumi hums through a dry and husky morning throat in the same way he might if Sousuke was running his fingers through his wispy hair after it’s been tied back for awhile. “Do it again.”

“Sec,” he mutters. He turns his phone to the side for a wide shot, and makes sure he gets Kisumi’s shoulders and chest and the milky twist that falls to a shallow dip at the base of his throat in the frame before snapping it and setting it to his contact, then drops the device back on the nightstand. “Where was I?”

“Mmm, I think you were going to dry hump me like a horny highschool boy?”

“ _Right_.” Sousuke obliges him, taking his time, catching Kisumi’s lidded, drowsy eyes with his own while he grinds them together for just long enough to catch a single hitch on the rise of Kisumi’s chest. Kisumi runs his fingertips up the sides of Sousuke’s thighs, over the tops, and down the insides, lightly scratching on his pull back down.

“Awake now?” Sousuke asks hazily.

“I _guess_.” Then the moment is over, and Kisumi rolls with all of his weight to throw Sousuke off of him. The momentum almost sends him off the bed, but he’s able to throw his legs down and stand on the floor instead. “ _Eggs_.”

Sousuke rolls his eyes and stalks off towards the bathroom to brush his teeth. One day he’ll be more important than breakfast for Kisumi. It’s just another thing Sousuke didn’t learn about him until much later, since he never used to stay long enough to eat any. On the upside, whenever he brings Kisumi breakfast in bed he receives the world’s best blowjob for it. It’s not _all_ bad.

Just as he spits, Kisumi steps in and reaches past him for his toothbrush and paste. _Cinnamon_ flavored, because it’s common knowledge he’s an escaped archdemon from hell, and Sousuke’s just aiding and abetting a fugitive. Sousuke rinses fast to get out of there before he pops the cap as the smell alone is enough to make him shudder. 

Sousuke deliberates between the kitchen and anywhere else. He should probably avoid taking up space in the small area if Kisumi wants to make himself food. The guy goes absolutely _feral_ over space for his goddamned eggs. The thought of fucking off to laze about while Kisumi cooks for himself feels cold, though, and he sighs in submission and heads for the kitchen. If Kisumi wants breakfast at eleven in the morning on a Sunday, he can have it, and Sousuke will cook it. He’s a sucker and he knows it. He’s long since catapulted past the acceptance stage in this particular five-step grief hierarchy. 

“Oh my god,” Kisumi gasps behind him somewhere between shock and arousal, probably. And arousal at the thought of _breakfast_ , mind, not because of Sousuke. “You’re gonna make it for me?”

“For _some_ fuckin’ reason,” Sousuke grumbles as he sets all of the ingredients down onto the counter and twirls the utensil caddy around for a spatula. “Considering you’ve been a shit all morning.”

“I have not,” Kisumi protests. “Let me kiss you and prove it.”

Sousuke turns around and lays the flat end of the spatula across Kisumi’s mouth to bar him from coming any closer. “ _Cinnamon_.”

“Mm- _mm_ ,” Kisumi denies, huffy not unlike a kindergartener. “I changed my mind. _Try_ _me_.”

He narrows his eyes in suspicion as he sets the spatula down just as he gets the faintest whiff of mint off the plastic. “How kind.”

Kisumi grins triumphantly and closes the space with a link of his arms around Sousuke’s neck. “It wasn’t a dare, you know. More like a command.”

How the fuck Kisumi weaves his words nearly _tangibly_ to the point that he can feel them carressing whatever curves, Sousuke will probably never know, and doesn’t particularly want to find out either. He takes his time to obey and taste the sweet mint lingering at the corners of Kisumi’s mouth while the kiss is still chaste before Kisumi takes the sort of kiss he was really asking for; all wet and heavy. When they part, Sousuke chases, which Kisumi visibly gets a kick out of. All this relentless salacity is taking its toll on his self-control.

“I haven’t even started cooking yet,” Sousuke jokes.

Kisumi dusts kisses along his jaw and gropes up the front of his torso, pushing his shirt out of the way as he moves and stops at his chest to rub and squeeze the muscle. “ _God_ I know but some days I just wanna pick up a pack of those dirt cheap pisspoor excuses for cigarettes you used to buy and let you fuck me until the box is empty.”

“Is today one of those days?” Sousuke laughs to hide his _extreme_ interest in this idea.

“Shaping up to be,” he purrs. Really, he does; Sousuke feels it. One of his craftier tricks.

Sousuke forces Kisumi’s chin up with a pull to his hair to nip at his neck, his thoughts of it earlier on the bed feeling a lot less clinical all of a sudden. “Let me cook and then I’ll ask you again.”

“You always know how to wine and dine me,” he sighs, throwing his head back even more to meet Sousuke’s mouth. He sucks and bites along Kisumi’s collarbones, careful not to mark him. Kisumi never likes that, and the trust is difficult to build back up even if Sousuke does it on accident. Being banned from kissing his neck is as bad as being blueballed. 

Kisumi likes _everything_ light, which works out because Sousuke doesn’t like to impart roughness on him. Kisumi doesn’t like being manhandled like Sousuke does, but he loves to dish it. It makes for an enticing contrast when someone as large as Sousuke prefers to touch so lightly and someone as lithe as Kisumi takes pleasure in physically lifting and moving Sousuke when he can. It’s been like this since the beginning, and it’s nice to know some things never change.

Sousuke gives a final kiss to the dip where Kisumi’s collarbones meet and pulls back, pushing him away by his hips at the same time. “Let me cook.”

The conflict storming in Kisumi’s eyes is downright comical; he can’t help but chuckle. Choosing between making out in the kitchen and letting Sousuke cook him breakfast will be the most difficult decision he makes all day. As always though, the breakfast wins out when he lets Sousuke go with a pout. 

“One of these days I’m going to be better than eggs,” Sousuke remarks as he gets started. Kisumi’s wandered away, as his answer is a distant incredulous _ha!_.

It’s not a very time consuming thing to make. The overjoyed, appreciative kiss he earns as he sets the table even makes it- dare he admit- _worth_ it. Sometimes this is all there is to the excitement too, he thinks. Just the thrill of making Kisumi happy.

“You even cooked it with love,” Kisumi grins after a bite.

“I did not. I bitched the entire time.”

He wraggles a piece of bacon at him disapprovingly. “There’s a _difference_ in taste, you know. And you did too. The proof is in the eggs, buddy. All fried and yolky and perfectly salted; _just_ how I like my men.”

Sousuke laughs and snatches the bacon for a bite before returning it. “Undercooked, greasy, and chewy,” he grunts as he gestures to it. “There’s you.”

“Aww! Will this lovey dovey honeymoon period of ours _ever_ end?” Kisumi sighs mock-wistfully. “Remind me to write my mother home: _he even knows how I like my bacon_. _I’m going to marry him._ ” He fans himself for effect, bacon still in-hand, making Sousuke snort.

Of course they never really had a _honeymoon_ period. They had a transient restless youth period with a lot of sex and little communication which transitioned to settling together without enough planning and fighting about it for a year straight before their egos could be wrestled into submission, and maybe that’s the joke Kisumi is hoping Sousuke is privy to. 

It’s only easier now, it was never easier back then. That’s the big secret under all of his rosey romanticization. But it’s always better to wax poetic about the chase of the curious wolf and the earth-rumbling fox, so he goes with that version. It’s better to look back on those exciting times and pretend any of that collectively could hold a candle to Kisumi sitting cross-legged in his underwear across the table fawning over a fucking piece of wobbly bacon.

“Do you ever miss all that sluttin’ around? Bad breakups and dead end jobs and trying too hard to make it look like you didn’t give a shit, specifically,” Kisumi asks suddenly, and it isn’t the first time Sousuke wonders if he hears his thoughts so clearly he may as well just say everything he’s thinking out loud. Kisumi claims he wears it on his face if you know how to read it. Maybe that’s true, but if so Kisumi would be the first Sousuke’s ever known to decode that language.

“I do,” he answers truthfully. “But I know I’m not being realistic about how it really was.”

“Hmm,” he hums as he chews. “And how was it?”

Kisumi’s never really brought any of this up before, at least not in a context where he wants to hear about it from Sousuke’s perspective, so he’s caught off guard to hear the question. Sousuke’s always had the sense Kisumi feels guilty where he shouldn’t, and avoids talking about it so he doesn’t reveal that about himself. But Kisumi doesn’t appreciate being coddled either, and Sousuke will always tell the truth if he really wants to hear it. 

“It was the most exciting time of my life,” he states simply. “There was something addictive about trying the world out and carelessly throwing it all away as soon as you showed up at my door again.”

“But?”

Sousuke leans forward to prop his chin on his hand. “But none of that ever ended as perfectly uninteresting and uneventful as this morning’s gonna end, did it?”

Kisumi stares blankly at first, and back then Sousuke would wait for a joker’s grin to split his face, a laugh that rattled Sousuke’s ribs and joints, and a quip that took them to the bedroom. But there’s only a smile in his eyes that never meets his mouth at all, and it’s Sousuke’s favorite one. He points his gaze down almost bashfully and finishes clearing his plate, stopping to graciously offer Sousuke the last of it which he declines. 

When he’s finished, Kisumi sighs contentedly and clears the table quickly with a clatter into the sink, leaving the dishes for later. Sousuke doesn’t whine about it for once. “Well I don’t know about all _that_ ,” he finally responds playfully, and stops to kiss him on the forehead before sauntering away to the bedroom. He throws a goddamned blessing over his shoulder as if an afterthought about the weather; “You know, something tells me I can run to the convenience store and be back with those smokes before noon if I set my mind to it.”

Hell, they’ll choke on them now, but nothing would be more refreshing.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~hey this probably takes place in the same universe as lullaby :') you're welcome.~~
> 
> [tumblr](http://iskabee.tumblr.com)


End file.
